


Chosen

by mvnsou



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28850682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvnsou/pseuds/mvnsou
Summary: listen i'm too drunk to actually provide a full-on description right now. this is just a way to try and provide context and shit for what i post on tumblr. SHAMELESS villainfucking, shamelesss destruction of canon, shameless everything. and shameless vaderfuckery of course.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/Original Female Character(s), Darth Vader & Original Female Character(s), Darth Vader/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Chosen

NAVARRO - 5:14 A.M, Zhellday (Thursday)

As the familiar dull ache of anger thudded against her skull, accompanied by the aftermath of last night’s drinking, she tried to remind herself of why it stung so. She wanted to believe it sprung simultaneously from a righteous fury, for needless lives lost, and from guilt that she hadn’t been able to stop it. No, not “it” - him. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t been her saber slicing through Shaak Ti’s back, eviscerating Ki-Adi-Mundi, or neatly cleaving Plo Koon into two symmetrical halves. She knew what was going to happen, and she did nothing to stop it. Worse, she stoked the flames of the destruction.

Deep inside her chest, though, in a place she tried to keep abandoned, the true reason for the simmering fury festered. That she had not been chosen. That despite it all, here she was, abandoned again, by the one person she’d finally come to believe would always have a place for her. 

The chirp of her comlink brought Story to full alert, a blessed distraction from her half-asleep subconsciousness. She blinked once at her alarm clock. 5:42 A.M. Only one person would be calling her this early. She nearly picked up the call when she remembered to shove her helmet over her head. No one could truly be trusted, most certainly not her boss who traded in bounties for a living.

“Good morning, Shaba,” she said. Even with the helmet modulating her voice, her words came out raspy with sleep. 

“Glad to see you’re up early, miss Inimica,” Shaba’s voice crackled over the comlink. “You’ll be pleased to hear - ”

“What have I said about spreading identifying information over the link?” Story snarled. “You know anyone could be listening to these things.” She curled her fingers into a fist, just strongly enough to remind Shaba of what she was capable of.

“Yes, of course,” he swallowed. “My apologies, Inimica.” 

Story nodded. “Continue.”

“As I was saying, you’ll be pleased to hear I have a new contract for you,” he said. “Not just any contract, but one I think you’ll be particularly excited to complete.”

“Can you tell me over the link, or do I need to come in?” she asked.

“I’ll need you to come into the office for details, but I’ll tell you this - it’s a member of the Crimson Dawn.”

Electricity surged through Story’s veins. The thought of bringing one of those disgusting, worthless Dawn enforcers to a well-deserved bitter end was the best news she’d received in months. With a bit of luck, she might have the chance to slit the throat of one of her old employers. Beneath her mask, a grin spread across her face. A savage grin, to be sure, but still a rare sensation these days. 

“Say no more. I’ll be there in an hour.” She turned off the link with a swift click.

Thirty minutes later, Story slid her black leather boots over her feet, ready to wave a last goodbye to her dingy apartment for the next few days. She cast a smirk at the twin dartboards hanging above her desk, each with faded Empire propaganda posters featuring the faces of Lord Vader and Emperor Palpatine plastered over top of them. Each poster was littered with dozens of darts piercing the faces of the galaxy’s new rulers. (Palpatine’s wrinkled visage bore significantly more dart punctures, but Story pretended not to notice this.) Other than those, the apartment bore little by means of decoration in case she needed to quickly relocate. 

She slipped the remainder of her armor on and locked the door behind her. Really, the armor was unnecessary for someone who’d managed to stay alive for over twenty-three years despite rarely being clothed in more than a glorified bathrobe, but she needed to keep up appearances. After slipping out the back door of the apartment complex, she hopped into her modest speeder. The engine sputtered to life, and soon she arrived at the deceptively small stucco building where she knew Shaba would be waiting for her. 

The marble halls of Shaba’s headquarters were mercifully empty at this hour. Story’s boots echoed against the floors as she made her way to Shaba’s office. Upon arriving, she realized he’d forgotten to leave the door unlocked for her. With a gentle Force push, she swung the door open. 

With a startled cry, Shaba’s bodyguard, Mila, sprung to her feet, aiming a blaster at Story’s face. “We’re closed!” she yelped. “Get out or -” Her features changed from bravado to horror as she realized who it was. “Oh! Inimica!” Hurriedly, Mila stowed her blaster in a pouch on her hip. “How good to see you this morning!” 

“Shaba’s got you working early this morning, huh?” Story said. Paranoid old bastard, she thought.

“Every morning this week,” Mila replied through a yawn. A look of annoyance crossed her face, which she quickly attempted to erase. “Not that it’s a bother! Working for Shaba is always a pleasure!”

Story rolled her eyes. She dug into her pocket and fished out a few spare credits. “It is a bother. Especially for how much he’s paying you. Go buy yourself a coffee.” She pressed the credits into Mila’s hand. 

“I - thank you, but I can’t -”

Without waiting for Mila to finish her sentence, Story brushed past her and opened the door to Shaba’s inner sanctum. Her cape fluttered behind her slightly as she shut the door behind her. 

“Thank you for arriving so promptly, Inimica.” Shaba steepled his leathery fingers. 

“Next time, make sure your bodyguard doesn’t shoot me in the face.” Story took the seat across from the Sullustan. “Now, what’s this about a Crimson Dawn target?”

Shaba smiled. “As you know well, we’ve been attempting to compete with Crimson Dawn to be the sole distributors of coaxium in the Mid Rim. We believe we’ve finally located a window of opportunity.” Shaba turned on the projector behind him. On the screen appeared the image of a blond man, young yet heavily scarred, clad in a high-necked coat. 

“This is Dryden Vos,” Shaba explained, “the new Head of Operations for the Mid Rim’s branch of Crimson Dawn. Vos is wealthy, powerful, and a cunning strategist.” A twinkle appeared in Shaba’s eye. “But he is also arrogant. Prideful. And very susceptible to flattery. We think you stand a good chance of assassinating him. Eliminating such a high-ranking member of the Dawn would send a clear message of the Sapphire Dusk’s superiority.”

“Sounds like fun,” Story grinned. “Do we have a gameplan?” 

“Vos is hosting a gala tomorrow evening aboard his new ship, the First Light. I have two potential plans for how you could gain access to the event. The first is, in my opinion, much easier.” He cleared his throat. “You would pose as a wealthy patron looking to join his inner social circle. Our contacts can quickly coach you on all the latest there is to know in high society and the arts. You would merely need to flatter him enough to get him alone for just a moment, kill him, and escape.” A strange color spread across Shaba’s cheeks, and Story realized he was blushing.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” she asked. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

“Well,” he began slowly, “I know I don’t know much about you, but I know that you’re, uh,” he made an awkward up-and-down gesture, “a woman. You may find your task will be much easier if you, er… appeal to Vos’s senses.”

“And what are these senses?” Story asked. 

“Well, you know,” Shaba continued to splutter. “He’s like most men. He likes a pretty face.”

Story clenched her fist, willing herself not to fling Shaba against the wall. “Why even bring this up? You know I can’t show my face there.” Or anywhere. 

“Inimica, please,” Shaba said. “I know the grudge you hold against the Crimson Dawn. But it’s been so long since you were in their employ. I highly doubt anyone there would recognize you. Besides, from what little you’ve told me, it sounds as though everyone you were in contact with is dead.” 

“Nearly everyone,” Story corrected him. “And it’s not just the Dawn I’m worried about. The Empire’s spies are everywhere. I can’t risk them seeing my face.” 

Shaba furrowed his brow. “You’re lucky you’re the only Force-sensitive bounty hunter we have, you know. Your apparent disagreements with so many major organizations can prove… difficult.”

“I’m the only Force-sensitive bounty hunter anyone has,” she corrected him again. “Besides, what I ask for payment in discretion, I more than make up for in how low I charge compared to the quality of my services.” She curled her fist just a bit tighter, and the room darkened and filled with an oppressive air. Nothing that could truly hurt Shaba, of course. Just enough to remind him that her will was not to be contested. 

“Fine, we’ll do it your way,” Shaba sighed. “But it will be much more difficult.”

“Now we’re talking.” Story released her fist. “I love a challenge.” 

“You certainly do,” he grumbled. “Since you insist on retaining your bounty hunter armor, you will pose as an applicant for becoming his personal lieutenant.” 

“Is such a position open?”

Shaba gave a lopsided grin. “If you succeed, it will be.” He tapped the screen, and it shifted to a new message labeled “OBJECTIVE: DELIVER COAXIUM.” Clearly, he’d known Story - ahem, Inimica - was not going to accept his initial plan. “You will need to stand out amongst the droves hoping for access to his exclusive event. You will inform security that you are in possession of a shipment of coaxium that you have personally obtained, and that you wish for an audience with Vos. You will explain that you wish to become his chief lieutenant, and that the coaxium is intended as a gift to prove your loyalty.”

“You’re willing to waste coaxium on this mission?” Story asked. “I’m flattered by your faith in me, but -”

“The coaxium is a decoy,” Shaba interrupted. “False coaxium only retains the look of its genuine counterpart for a few hours, so you will need to act quickly. Once you have obtained an audience with Vos, lure him away from his guards. Flattery will serve you well here. Kill him and escape. Try to make as little of a scene as possible.” 

Story nodded. “Sounds good. Anything else I should know?” 

“A ship will be delivered in a few hours for you to use as your vehicle. A fake identification card will be provided, as well as the false coaxium.” He pressed a small device into her hand. “Please ensure you are wearing this device throughout the duration of your mission. With this, I will be able to track your movements and ensure your safety, as well as provide you with an escape when necessary.”

“Fine,” said Story, who was rather not fine with this but did not have any other brilliant ideas to offer instead. “I’ll see you when Vos is dead, then.” She stood up and turned to leave. 

“Inimica, wait.” Shaba gazed at her with an unfamiliar expression - concern, perhaps? “Can I ask you something?”

“You’re already asking me something, so you might as well keep going,” she said. 

“Why do you resist employment with the Empire?” he asked. “You know they would reward you much more handsomely than I ever could. A bounty hunter of your skill - you could be living a life of luxury. Fame, fortune…” He trailed off and gestured to the parking lot outside. “A better speeder…”

Story clenched her fist once more, and the lights flickered. “You seem to be struggling to understand the discretionary terms of our contract, Shaba,” she said. “The condition of my speeder is none of your business, and my business with the Empire is even less of your business.” She drew closer to him, her cape whirling behind her. “If you are ever dissatisfied with the terms of our agreement, I’m happy to work elsewhere. Perhaps I should take this idea of becoming Vos’s personal lieutenant seriously.” In reality, Story would prefer a slow, painful death to ever working with the Dawn again, but like a great many other things, that was something Shaba did not need to know. 

“No, no!” Shaba said. “I just - I want you to know I’m very grateful for your services. Without you, the Sapphire Dusk would have faded into nothingness long ago. And I wonder why you choose to remain with us when a hunter with your talents could be doing much better.”

A twinge of guilt struck Story as the lights returned to normal. “You need not concern yourself with my personal fulfillment, Shaba,” she said. “I plan to continue working in your service for as long as you have need for me.” 

“I appreciate that, Inimica,” Shaba said. “I really do.” He sighed, looking almost guilty, for reasons Story couldn’t discern. “Good luck on your mission.”

“Won’t need it.” Story winked - a useless gesture, but it made her feel better. “When have I ever disappointed?”


End file.
